A Mother's Eyes
by closedbookopenmind
Summary: This is a story about the friendship of Hermione, Ron and Harry. It's about the lengths that Hermione will go to to save Harry, and the costs it comes with. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter books or any of the characters presented in this fan fiction. J.K. Rowling has the proud title of author, and I wouldn't dare try to take that away from her.

**Author's Note:** I do not believe in witchcraft, so please if you feel like you're going to get the urge to go join Wicca after reading my story, just don't. If you feel that reading a Harry Potter fan fiction will sway you to take part in witchcraft, than please pass up on my story. I believe in God, and the promises he offers, not the lies offered in spells and incantations. I know this is basic and stupid, but there are those out there who would disagree with me. So please, don't become a witch after reading this. Thanks. 

**Setting Background: **This fan fiction takes place in the 5th book, while Hermione and Ron are in the school infirmary and after fighting death eaters at the Ministry of Magic. If you haven't read the 5th book you are not likely to understand the fic.

**CHAPTER 1:**

Hermione's eyes felt as stiff and crisp as the white linen hospital sheets underneath her. She forced her dried eyes open and scanned the blank, white stone walls. A window from the opposite side of the room let some spring sunshine cast shadows against what she found was a string of cards on the wall, addressed to her. Hermione smiled and breathed in the strong smell of lemon, antiseptic and another scent she couldn't quite trace. She gingerly tilted her head towards the smell and saw a bright bouquet of yellow and white daisies beside her on her night stand, her favorite flowers. Surrounding them were a variety of neon colored Burty Bots jelly beans, chocolate candies and a note card beside the pretty glass vase containing her flowers. Hermione squinted at the card, trying to make out its messy scrawl, and, instead, caught a glimpse of the person in another bed beside her.

Her eyes were still blurry but it was easy to make out a vivid patch of red hair poking out from beneath the covers and what appeared to be brown clusters of freckles on the back of his neck. His head was turned away from Hermione and her vision was still too shaky to tell if his body was lifting and falling in his sleep. Hermione fought the idea of losing him in her mind and gave out a small gasp of breath.

"Ron." she managed to let out, with much less intensity than was building up inside of her. She wondered how long it had been since she last spoke. "Ron!" Hermione croaked again, picking up volume. Hermione drew in a long breath, ready to yell for Nurse Pomfrey when she felt something squeeze her hand on the opposite side of the bed.

The hand was callused and cold, nearly foreign to her. She racked her brain and with a doubtful voice asked: "Harry?"

The hand squeezed gently again and she heard his familiar voice pick up. "He's fine; let him sleep. He's been worried about you."

She forced herself to nod. Her neck felt like a swing door on creaky hinges; her head felt too heavy. Before glancing over at him she caught a glimpse of the note card again. "Thank you Harry."

"I'm sorry; they've gotten a little wilted. You've been asleep for a long time."

She turned her head, finally, and scanned over him. Harry was drooping in his seat; his hair was messier than usual, and he somehow seemed even more tired than her. But he didn't seem to be wincing from any sort of pain. His scar didn't look inflamed and his eyes were still his own. Something Hermione had always admired about Harry were his eyes, his mother's eyes, everyone said.

Harry looked away from her, towards the other side of the room. It always made him nervous when people stared at him, especially when they looked at his scar. It bothered Hermione that he didn't feel comfortable with her in this way yet, but she let it go. "I'm sorry Harry. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. I've had dreams too, you know?"

Harry looked up, shuddering this time. A surge of worry came through her.

"It's okay." He said plainly. He paused for a moment; guilt and concern were etched across his face. "I know it's my fault." He let out with effort and paused again. "When I saw you fall…I thought that you were dead." An extra emphasis trailed to the last word in his sentence and hung in the air above their heads for a while. Harry cast his eyes away from it, towards the floor, but Hermione held her gaze at Harry.

"I know what I get myself into, so does Ron and everyone else. I'm just glad to know that everyone is alright. I'm thrilled to see you sitting here." She paused for a moment, and then with much the same intensity that Harry held in his voice said, "You're more important than you think Harry."

Harry's face screwed up in anger and his fist collided with the metal tray table resting near her bed. The tray fell down with a clang and a disturbed Umbridge from across the room yipped in her sleep about staying quiet in the hallways. Hermione almost giggled, thinking about what must have happened to the "old bat." She turned to smile at Harry and immediately stopped herself.

"Not everyone knew what they were getting into. Sirius…" Harry stopped himself. Umbridge had quieted down and there was a deafening silence in the hospital corridor. Harry's voice came out in a rush, "I'm sick of hearing how important that I am! Everyone seems happy that I'm alive instead of Sirius."

There was no preparing Hermione for what he had just said. No one else had entered her mind once she had seen that Harry and Ron were alright; she suddenly felt very selfish. Hermione tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Sirius was dead. One word kept playing through her head. How? But looking at Harry's face, she knew that she couldn't ask.

A voice from her opposite side rose groggily from Ron's bed. "The Order came to help us last week." Ron's voice trailed of into a yawn and ended leaving the room quiet again.

"Oh" Was all that Hermione could think to say. She wanted desperately to talk to Ron and find out what happened, to see him and make sure that he was alright.

"I think that that's enough Mate." Ron's voice was steadier now.

Harry stood up. It was obvious that he felt the same. His face had softened now. The anger had left his features and he looked even more tired than before. Harry pushed his chair back to its place against the wall and started to leave the room, padding quickly across the floor, with Hermione and Ron watching him leave. He disappeared out the doorway.

Hermione turned again, slowly, gingerly. Her sides and chest still ached from the blow she had taken. Her legs resisted movement after lying in bed for a week. With a heave and a painful intake of breath she was able to pull herself on her side towards Ron. Hermione wiped the pain from her face and managed a smile for Ron, who was patiently staring back at her. For a moment it was quiet, and they sat there staring at each other intently, each trying to will the other to speak first.

"So," said Hermione, finally relenting. "I've been in here, asleep for a week?"

Ron nodded and then bursted into a smile. "Do you like the jelly beans? I got them for you, Harry got the flowers and Mum sent over some cookies." he beamed, pulling out a tin.

Hermione picked one of the brighter colored beans off of her bedside table and popped it into her mouth. The neon green had resembled a lime but, instead, turned out to be puss flavored. Hermione gulped it down without chewing and tried to manage a grin.

"Great." she replied, struggling to keep down the first food she had stomached in nearly a week. She could almost feel the rotten bean swimming and heaving in her empty stomach, but tried not to let on. "I should probably wait to eat the rest later though; I haven't had anything real to eat in a while."

"Errrm…right." Replied Ron obliviously. He didn't seem to be paying attention to what Hermione was saying. He stared intently at a piece of his sheets that was slowly being twisted and untwisted around his index finger, waiting for Hermione to ask her question.

"Sirius?"

The answers came faster than she was ready for. The pictures of Hermione's hurt friends were jumbled in her mind: Neville's bloody nose, Ginny's broken ankle and Sirius falling behind the curtain. It was too much to handle at once. Hermione could feel the blood draining from her face and hid her head in her hands. Ron continued the story without notice. He hadn't looked up from the spot on his bed in minutes, focused on finishing the story. There was no emotion left in his voice, the words had little meaning to him anymore. Ron continued on with an unrelenting urgency, as if he couldn't tell the story fast enough. Finally, with a gulp, he paused to look up at Hermione and gain strength to finish the end of the story. He stared at her for a moment, huddled there on her bed, and continued.

"And then Voldemort show..."

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. "You said his name." Hermione had lifted her blotchy face from her hands, obviously shocked. She was trembling all over, her face was red and her lips quivered with each word, but there were no tears. She would not cry, not in front of Ron.

The realization hit her hard; Voldemort was real again, even Ron couldn't hide from it anymore. Fighting the mounting temptation to cry Hermione turned over, much quicker than she had meant to. A shot of pain went through her sides, as if someone was tearing her open. Hermione closed her eyes, tight in pain, and prepared herself to block out whatever Ron had left to say. But Ron didn't say anything. She let out a breath of release and readied herself for sleep.

For a while it was quiet in the room. There was a low, off-pitch humming noise coming from Ms. Pomfrey's office in the corner of the hospital wing, and every so often a short snore erupted from Umbridge, but everything was still and the room was steadily growing darker. After a few minutes Ron creaked in his bed, probably turning around. Hermione ignored it; he was just trying to fall back asleep too, she imagined. So it came as a shock to her, when she heard the uneven pad of Ron's tired legs cross the room and felt his weight fall softly onto the corner of her bed.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice was hoarse and nervous sounding.

Hermione dug herself further away from Ron and hid herself into the covers. She winced again, at her stupid mistake. Her head thumped and her side ached from the sudden movement. Hermione hissed out a painful breath, not caring about upsetting Ron anymore. Her hair fell over her face, frizzy and unclean, but she was glad to have the further concealment. They stayed there, silent for a moment again; before Ron prepared himself to speak, placing a scarred hand on her shoulder. Hermione shuddered from his touch and gave a sudden gasp as she saw his hand draw away from under a mass of tangles.

"I'm sorry" Blurted Ron.

Hermione turned cautiously around to see him sitting there on the edge of her bed; a horrified look was on his face.

"Did I hurt you? I-I'm so sorry." Ron was tripping over his words. His hand was drawn away as far from her as possible, lifted up in the air, as if it were threatening. His face was contorted in absolute fear. But Hermione wasn't concerned with that; she was transfixed upon the deep scars gashed across his face, neck, and hands. Hermione gasped again.

"What did I do? Did I hurt you?" Ron's voice picked up with fervor, his eyes traced over her, trying to identify any pain he might have caused her.

"No." Replied Hermione quietly. "It's just, your scars, they look terrible."

Ron blushed from the attention and his obviously haggard appearance. He turned his head, trying to hide the red pigment spreading to his ears and neck. Ron nervously fidgeted around in his seat. He tugged on, his now, scarlet ears and then pulled back his hair from his face, inadvertently revealing another deep scar above his left eyebrow. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Finally, giving into the embarrassment, he managed out:

"Nurse Pomfrey says that tentacles give some of the hardest scars to get rid of, but they should disappear, for the most part." Ron turned and forced a smile towards Hermione, still embarrassed. "It's not that bad; my legs still hurt a little bit. Those things can wrap around you pretty tight" he finished with a nervous laugh.

"Ron." Hermione yelped in protest. "You were limping!"

The red tint disappeared from Ron's face and he smiled down at her critically. Hermione suddenly felt as if they were back in Gryffindor tower. It was the same look that Ron would give her every time she nagged him about finals or Fred and George about their pranks.

"But…" Hermione said, trying to defend herself. She scowled back at him, as he cocked his head and turned his bright eyes back down at her, the smile still there; he was mocking her. The superiority that he was able to achieve by just sitting up, when she couldn't was aggravating to her. The added height seemed to boost his ego, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not get up. Hermione relented, grumbling into her pillow. Ron had won. He chuckled in reply.

"I came over here to see how you were doing, ya know? I'm alright." His face gave way, back into concern.

"I'm fine." retorted Hermione, still bitter. She inched away again, letting out a puff of air, and wrenching her face in extreme discomfort.

"Yeah." said Ron, sarcastically, pulling a tuft of matted hair away from her face and letting it fall into a frazzled mess on her pillow. "You look great."

Hermione frowned.

"Look…" Ron exhaled. He knew he was losing her attention, and both of their patience's were thinning. "I wasn't okay after I heard about Sirius either. But I've had nearly a week to deal with it, and well…you haven't."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"You can't be alright with this." Ron waited in the still silence for an answer but didn't receive one. Hermione lay there looking up at him without a sound.

Ron's eyes wandered back and forth; he was running out of ideas. He steadied himself, exhaled and reached out his hand. He rested it atop the tips of Hermione's thin fingers and waited to be shrugged away again.

Hermione's eyes were closed when she first felt Ron's touch. She could feel the bump from a particularly large scar on his palm and traced the edge of it with her finger tip. She opened her eyes and gave a grim smile, now grasping his hand.

"They really got you, didn't they?" Hermione didn't expect an answer.

Ron shook his head slowly, without sound. He was shocked, but managed a grin. His grip tightened; he gave an affectionate squeeze of comfort and let his shoulders fall back into a more comfortable position.

Hermione felt the renewed strength in his grip before she saw it in his face. A comfort washed over her and she looked into his face to find a new sort of confidence in him that she had never seen before. His face was set, determined to help her and yet he seemed relaxed there with her. There was no blush on his cheeks, he did not seem uncomfortable or on guard. Ron had grown up in the last week; she had missed so much.

"No." managed Hermione, surprised in herself. "I'm not okay."

The tear Hermione had been fighting back sprang down her cheek. Ron watched the tear fall and was tempted for a moment to wipe it away, but he couldn't help but feel that he had intruded on some part of Hermione that she didn't want to let go. He was getting too close and his confidence was beginning to waver.

"I know." replied Ron steadily, trying to gain back his courage.

Hermione pulled her hand away from Ron's grip. He was released from the conversation. Ron pushed himself off of her bed; he would let her sleep. They could talk more, later when she wasn't so worn out; he'd have to tell Ms. Pomfrey that Hermione had woken up, in the morning. Hermione had dealt with enough for the night.

The last thing that Hermione heard before she drifted off into fitful sleep was the sound of Ron slowly hobbling towards his own bed. He had really been hurt.

**Thanks for reading. The fic should have a total of 4 chapters. I'm currently editing chapters 2 and 3. It shouldn't be long before the next 2 are posted. Please review and remember there's a difference between constructive and destructive critisism. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**First verse same as the first! I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. I don't believe in witchcraft because God is cool. Wicca is bad for your health; don't become a witch after reading this. Enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think. Review! Review!**

**CHAPTER 2:**

A rustling noise and a quiet murmur roused Hermione the next morning out of a groggy sleep. The voices in the room blended together, soothingly caressing over Hermione's worn body and slowly attempting to lift her heavy eyelids. The voices seemed to be coming out of the distance towards her, slowly becoming closer and closer to making actual words. Finally, the gruff voice of her friend lifted to her ears from amongst the sound of pained hissing breaths and she could understand what was going on.

"Are you sure Herm..." Ron suddenly stopped in mid sentence to stifle a curse under his breath. "Can you be more careful with that? It still hurts, ya' know?"

Hermione let her eyelids slit open, not wanting them to know she was awake. Through half closed eyes she saw Nurse Pomfrey nod her head and continue with Ron's dressings on his leg. Ron sighed through gritted teeth and began again.

"Are you sure Hermione can't get out today too? I don't feel right leaving her here."

Nurse Pomfrey did not reply directly. She simply shook her head, and continued the dressings, tightening the bandages a bit more than she should.

"Ahh!" yelped Ron in pain, letting another curse slip under his breath. Nurse Pomfrey glared at him in warning. They had obviously been going over this for a while, and she was losing her patience.

"The best thing that you can do for Hermione is to let her rest." retorted an agitated Pomfrey. "Your heart's in the right place boy, but she's just not well enough yet."

"And you're sure I can't…"

Pomfrey stepped in and finished Ron's sentence for him, "Stay here longer?" She paused. "No."

The subject was closed. Pomfrey made the final tug on his bandages to tie them. She stood up from his bed and walked away towards her office, her heals clicking across the marble floor.

Ron put out his good leg and pushed himself off of the hospital bed. He hobbled for a minute around the room, collecting his things. The room was bright with the morning sun coming through the single, gothic framed window. If she had to guess, Hermione would have said it was around nine-thirty in the morning, just after breakfast. If Hermione wanted to say something before Ron left, it would have to be now; his things were nearly all gathered and Ron seemed strangely anxious.

She turned in bed, gave a small sigh and opened her eyes wide. Ron took the note well; He wheeled around on his good leg, having heard Hermione, and turned his eyes intently on her. Hermione smiled back at him, as he continued picking up a pair of socks on the floor as nonchalantly as possible.

"So..." he croaked, bending back up from gathering his socks, still balancing on one leg. "How are you doing?"

Hermione replied without thought. "Fine."

"Is there anything I can do for you, anything that would help?"

Hermione's eyes glimmered. It was just the question she had been waiting for him to ask. She smiled, hiding away the thoughts from last night's dream. She knew what she was supposed to do.

"Yes, but." Hermione's eyes scanned the room wearily. "It might get you in trouble; I couldn't ask you to do that."

Ron's mouth slid slowly open and gaped for a moment before he caught himself. It was unlike Hermione to ask for help and terribly unlike her to encourage bad behavior. Ron replied a little stunned.

"Hermione, you would never get me into trouble."

She disregarded his remark and continued, "You see, I need this book."

Ron was relieved, of course, all she wanted was a book. He smiled in agreement and let her continue.

"It used to be in the library; I went to look for it earlier this year, but it wasn't in there. I went to see if it was in the restricted section, but Mrs. Norris was there. I had to rush out before I could finish looking." Hermione paused for a moment, and then continued very matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to say. "You, see, I borrowed Harry's cloak."

Ron's eyes grew large, the words "borrowed" dug into him, and wrapped around his mind until he understood what she was saying. She gave him a moment, smiled weakly and then continued on.

"Anyways." she said with a sigh. "I think Dumbledore's hiding it back there."

Ron stared at her for a moment, gulped down the lump in his throat and set his voice. "What do you want me to do?" he asked in stern devotion.

"I want you to borrow Harry's cloak and go down there." She stopped a moment, to regain her familiar voice of warning. "And, Ron, do be careful. Don't ask Harry to go.". She seemed overly anxious. "Don't even bother him with it. He has enough to worry about."

"Right." Ron responded hesitantly. "Harry's coming over here tonight, before dinner, to see you; I'll tell him that I'm too tired and that I need to stay in bed. I'll get the cloak then, and go later tonight."

Hermione nodded, slowly checking the plan over in her mind. "That should work. Bring the book here as soon as you get it; I don't want you caught with it."

Ron nodded in return, lifted himself up from his seat on the bed and stood on his good leg. He hopped over to his hospital bed, opened his suitcase and threw in the sock that he had been holding for the last few minutes. Ron closed the suitcase, fit it under his arm and headed out of the ward just as the morning bell was ringing.

The sound of Ron's snoring friends surrounded him. He turned his head towards Harry's bed, on his right. Harry was fast asleep but turning quickly in his bed. His eyes were squenched shut, his fingers dug into his pillow and the lose sheets around him. Ron had seen him like this before; Harry was having a nightmare. Ron sat there for a moment in fear, watching his friend in pain. He was ready to abandon Hermione's plan, wake up his friend and tell Hermione to forget about the book, but as quickly as the nightmare had started, it stopped. Harry rolled over to one side, laid there and released his grip from his pillow. His breathing steadied and his snoring picked up again.

Ron sat there for a moment, watching him. When he could see that Harry's nightmare wasn't going to pick up again, he crept out of bed, reached his trunk on the floor and opened up the lid with a short creak. Ron peered around, Neville stirred in his sleep but no one appeared to have heard it. He rummaged through the chest, pulling out books, pieces of parchment, ink wells, quills and a maroon jumper until he came to it, the invisibility cloak.

The material was soft and sleek. It nearly slipped right through his fingers as he picked it up and weighed it in his hand. The cloak was as light as a feather. Memories of the many trips he had taken with Harry and Hermione under the invisibility cloak flashed through his mind and finally rested on the conversation that he had with Harry that evening.

"She seemed so weird when I went to visit. You really should have been there Ron." Harry explained.

Ron could remember his reply vividly, he had been so obvious. Harry must have known that something was wrong. His voice would barely come out. He coughed. "Really?" he struggled to say in a short breath.

But Harry continued on without notice. "Yeah, usually you can't get her to stay quiet, but tonight…" Harry shook his head in confusion. "Well tonight, she barely said a word. Do you think something's up?" Harry waited a moment and then answered his own question. "Of course something's up." He gasped in aggravation. "I've landed her in the hospital!"

Ron disregarded the dry feeling overcoming his mouth and throat and spit out an answer. "No, it's not that!"

Ron felt overwhelmingly guilty; he couldn't let Harry beat himself up about this anymore. He had been doing it for the last week; it had been torture for the both of them to see Hermione before she had woken up. Hermione had no idea what she was doing to Harry, and it made him angry.

"She's just being a git, that's all." Ron grumbled.

Harry looked back at Ron, shocked and obviously upset.

Ron quickly apologized. "Sorry…erm…it's just that she acted the same way yesterday. It's not you. Just tired, I guess."

"I guess." Harry repeated in agreement as he stepped into bed, pulling the covers up to his neck. "You sure?" he asked while bending towards his bedside table to blow out the candle sitting there.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Ron answered. The flame went out and the room grew dark.

The room had grown darker still since the conversation with Harry. A patch of grey clouds was covering the night's crescent moon. The darkness would make it more difficult to read the Marauder's Map, which Ron had also remembered to swipe during Harry's visit with Hermione, but it could only make it easier to go around the castle undetected, so he didn't mind as much. Ron threw the cloak over his shoulders. He fastened the clasp tightly, grabbed a hold of the map, and headed towards the door. Ron tapped quickly down the stairs from the corridor in slippered feet and hurried into the corridor, where he was met, to his surprise, by the sound of giggling.

"A tea-spoon more of hog's slime, you think Fred?" choked out an over eager George.

"Might as well pour the whole thing in, we're not the one who's buying it." Cried back and equally excited Fred.

Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George were busying themselves with a giant mess on the corridor floor. The two equally disgusting cauldrons, laying about their feet, were filled to the brim and oozing with what looked like green pus onto the common-room rug. The brilliantly carpeted Gryffindor red and gold, now bubbled with Slytherin green and rolled and crawled with the other contents of their concoction. Two cockroaches were munching and burrowing into an embroidered lion near the rug's middle, and another was crawling up to the hem of George's crocodile skin jacket. Neither of the boys seemed to take notice. Sheep's eyeballs rolled out from a glass jar near the hearth, and towards the open fire. Fred scooped them up and placed them into the cauldrons with a pop, while George brushed away the cockroach that was now climbing towards his ear.

"This will be the best one yet, don't you think?" muttered a far away George, as Ron pushed the door open to the common room port hole, turned his attention towards the hall and walked out. As he left he could hear the sound of several Gryffindor boys and girls clomping down the dormitory steps.

Ron didn't have time to find out what his brothers were up to, and now that he was a prefect, it was best that he didn't know. He took a final look at the Marauder's Map before closing the portrait of the fat lady, there was no one around. Mrs. Norris was far on the other end of the castle, and it wouldn't take long to get to the library. Hermione's dot on the map was fidgeting back and forth in the nurse Pomfrey's corridor; she mustn't be able to sleep, thought Ron. He folded up the map, and tucked it into his side pocket in his pajama pants. This wasn't going to be so hard after all. Ron pushed back his shoulders, took a step forward and headed his way down the stone steps to the library. It was deafly quiet, the large domed ceilings failed to echo Ron's steps or any other sounds in the castle. Everyone seemed to be asleep; Ron picked up his pace. There was obviously no one there to hear him and he was anxious to get back into bed. His leg still hurt badly and he could feel it start to drag behind on the hard floors of Hogwarts' Castle.

Ron bit his lip hard; he was going to have to stop for a minute. The pain was traveling up his leg to his hip, it had become nearly impossible to walk at such a quick pace. Ron spotted a statue of a decapitated old wizard, holding his head proudly in the palm of his hand with a smile. The marble gleamed back at him from under some escaping moon-rays; the clouds were beginning to drift. Ron moved slowly to get to the statue, then stole behind it. If anyone did walk in his direction he didn't want to be in their way.

He pulled out the map for the second time. Ron first located himself, he was standing behind the first of a pair of statues guarding the opening to the Great Hall. Mrs. Norris was still far at the other end of the castle and Hermione still seemed to be awake. A sudden clang came from the direction of the great hall. A cold ringing laugh followed it. Ron barely even needed to check the map to know; it was Peeves. His dot on the map scurried back and forth, zigzagging right through the Great Hall and towards where Ron was standing. A silvery figure darted out of the wall, above Ron's head and shot towards Snape's office. If Peeves was able to see Ron through the cloak he didn't seem to care. As Peeves zoomed on his way Ron could make out the shape of a copper pot and ladle grasped tightly in his ghostly hands, he couldn't help but chuckle. Snape was going to have a rude awakening; Ron would have to hurry if he wanted to miss the professor. Snape was sure to be out there in another moment.

Ron pushed himself away from the wall, peaked out from behind the statue, and when he saw that no one was there, continued on his way. His leg still hurt but he had to hurry. He could hear Peeve's loud wake up call, going off now. He clanged and screamed, Snape screamed back in return. Ron wouldn't be surprised if half the castle woke up. Ron hobbled quickly towards the Library. It wasn't far and he hoped that he could make it before Snape and Peeves arrived.

No such luck. Snape appeared quickly on the heels of Peeves, swinging a giant cane in the air towards Peeve's transparent form and rolling out an entire arsenal of dirty words. Snape was quite the sight. His usually slicked back, greasy hair stood on end. Peeves pointed and laughed at the unruly mess, and shook tauntingly at him a green striped night cap. Snape jumped again, attempting to hurt Peeves with the blows from his cane, and inadvertently exposing bare splotches of pale skin on his very stick like legs. The long silver night-shirt cut right about the knees, flew back and forth against Snape's skinny frame as he jumped and shook with anger. Ron stopped dead in his tracks; the picture before Ron was half funny to him and half disturbing. Peeves ate it up. He was laughing hard with tears springing down his face, and then disappearing into thin air. Each time Snape tried to hit him with the cane, Peeves would just float higher and laugh louder. Ron was starting to burst. He finally let out a little chuckle, though he tried with all his might to hold it back.

Snape came down hard on the floor, from mid jump. He peered around confusedly and crossed his eyes in aggravation. "Who's there?" He spurted sternly, trying to regain his composure and pick himself up from the floor. "Potter?" Snape paused, and his face gave into a smile. "It's you, isn't it Potter?" Snape managed with a final heave to pull himself off the floor and stand. "You put Peeves up to this, and now you're caught!"

Ron inched his way towards the entrance of the library. Snape had obviously lost it. His eyes were scanning the hall frantically, Peeves picked up suit, he lowered himself into cane range and looked round with translucent eyes. Ron ducked into the entrance, panting. He doubted that Snape would look for him here but there was no way to know.

"Potter?" Snape called in desperation.

Soft laughter erupted in a hall of the castle that Ron was unable to see.

"You'll have to forgive me Severus, but I'm afraid that I'm the only one here. Mr. Potter is sound asleep in his dorm room at the moment, one of the few Gryffindors, I'm afraid." A kind voice said through quiet laughter.

"Albus." managed an embarrassed Snape, pulling down his nightshirt firmly with one hand, while reaching for the cap with his other. The glow from Professor Dumbledore's wand reached Snape's face and illuminated the blush on his sallow cheeks.

Dumbledore's steps grew louder until he came into view of Ron and stopped short of Snape. "I'm afraid that Mr. Potter isn't to blame for this." Dumbledore stopped for a moment, looked at Peeves hovering just above Snape's head and pointed his wand towards the floor. Peeves responded obediently, shrinking down towards the ground and handing Snape his hat. The headmaster waited a moment for Snape to cram the cap on his head and then continued. "Mr. Weasley is to blame from the problem, isn't he Peeves?"

Ron froze. He saw Peeves slowly shaking his head in agreement as he handed over the pot and spoon that had been used to wake Snape up. Ron could barely breathe. How could Dumbledore possibly know?

With a nod from Dumbledore, Peeves floated away sourly and disappeared through the ceiling.

"I'm afraid that Fred put Peeves up to it. He and George are selling some of their trinkets upstairs in the Gryffindor commonroom and they needed a good distraction. I haven't a clue how they managed to get back in the castle but I'm headed up their next." Dumbledore said with a sigh.

Ron breathed out. For once he was glad of his brothers' stupid tricks.

"You'll have to forgive me Severus." Dumbledore coughed as he held out the pot and ladle for Snape to take. "You will return these to the kitchen for me, won't you? I have to take care of some business upstairs." Dumbledore didn't wait for an answer; he simply turned on his heal and marched towards the staircase leading to Gryffindor tower.

Snape grumbled, heading through the great hall and towards the kitchen, pot and spoon in hand; Ron was free to get the book and bring it back to Hermione.

Ron slipped away from his hiding place in the archway of the library entrance, opened the great oak double doors and padded in quietly. The library was silent and smelled of old books. The scent was almost stagnant, with finals over a week ago, it was obvious that no one had spent much time in the room recently. Ron stopped a minute and let his eyes adjust to the room. There was only a little light coming through the three large paned windows on the library's side. Two large trees outside the windows, along with the moving gray clouds managed to block out most of the moon's light. Ron squinted for a moment and continued on his way to the gated area in the back of the room. The caste iron frame of the gate was bent and gilded into the shapes of the house animals. The figure of a snake weaved in and out between the metal bars of the hinged door and stared before Ron with large eyes and barred fangs.

He was finally here. Ron looked down at his watch. It was one-thirty, it had only taken him a half hour to get here, he thought to himself bitterly. He would have to hurry, Hermione was probably getting worried. Ron reached a trembling hand out from under the cloak, grasped the cold handle, turned it and stepped inside of the restricted section. He gaped at all of the filled shelves, it could be anywhere in the section and there were a lot of books. Ron held his palm up to the light and tried to read the title of the book that was written in blotchy ink on his hand. The letters had all started to run together with the sweat from his hands, the words looked like a giant ink blob and the poor lighting didn't help either. He could barely make anything out. The title was too blurred and the first name of the author had almost completely vanished, the only thing that remained of his note was the last name. Anuxlus. Ron squenched his eyes hard and tried to remember the title, but it wouldn't come. He would just have to try to remember the name as he looked through the books.

He looked through the rows of books carefully. Ron wouldn't want to pick up the wrong one; he remembered Harry's howling book and he didn't want to make the same mistake. He ran past the different bindings with his finger. Abnus, Abirt, Acaldine, Adrontony, Agathine, Agrunt, Akrumedie, Amontard, Anaflaid, Aparat. There was no Anuxlus. Ron checked again, he must have missed it. He scanned a greater area of space this time; maybe it had been misplaced somewhere on the shelf. But it simply wasn't there. He checked a third time and a fourth, but the book wasn't anywhere to be seen. Ron was beginning to get nervous; he pulled his palm back up to the light to double check the name, but the note looked no different.

Something from behind Ron took hold of his raised hand, and placed into it a heavy book. Ron's arm collapsed under the weight and brought it down from the moonlit air. The whoosh of the book in his hand pushed back a stagnant mold smell in his face and made him cough. The book landed on the floor with a loud thud, and more dust rose into the air around him. From behind Ron a long shadowy figure glided through the dust, crouched to the floor and handed him the book back gently. Ron took hold of it with both hands.

"I believe this is what you're looking for." said the old man, smiling with his eyes, through half-moon spectacles.

Ron nodded as he saw the towering figure of his headmaster rise to his feet and gingerly shake the dust from his robes. Dumbledore next removed his glasses from his crooked nose, wiped them with his sleeve and placed them back on his face before beginning again. The steady, slow voice of Ron's headmaster had never seemed more intimidating than it did now.

"It's quite a good book. Professor Erma E. Anuxlus, a very good woman and a personal friend of mine. She was killed shortly after Voldermort's fall by his remaining followers..." Dumbledore waited quietly for Ron's response.

"Erma?" Ron asked, dazed and trembling.

"Why? Did you expect it to be written by a man?" Dumbledore asked with a half laugh; Ron didn't answer. "That wouldn't be fitting at all would it?"

Ron stood there horrified. In all of his years at Hogwarts he had been confused by many books, but never so much as this one. Dumbledore stared at him a moment, he seemed to be sizing him up. Ron gulped.

"Miss Granger obviously hasn't told you why she wants this particular book, has she?" Dumbledore asked calmly and then bent down towards Ron and waited for an answer.

Ron couldn't speak. He was angry at Hermione; he was scared to death that he was going to lose his prefect badge, and he had never been this close to Dumbledore in his life. His headmaster was just inches from his face waiting for him to answer a question that he barely understood and he couldn't breathe.

Dumbledore shook his head and smiled in return to Ron's speechless response. "You're not in trouble Ron, but I can't have you delivering this without your knowledge of what it is." Dumbledore pulled himself up from his bow, straightened his back and put out a hand on Ron's shaking shoulder. "I'm afraid that if you delivered this tonight you'd end up regretting it. This is my job, and I should've taken care of it a long time ago, along with several other things." sighed Dumbledore with a frown on his face.

Ron squinted up at Dumbledore. He had never seen him upset before. Dumbledore appeared to be in a daze at the moment, staring fixedly at the window for what seemed like several minutes. He was obviously thinking very hard about something. The silence was overwhelming and becoming very awkward for Ron. He was beginning to get worried about his headmaster.

"Errm…Sir?" Ron asked politely.

Dumbledore shook back to the present, and smiled down at his pupil once again. "You'd better head back to Gryffindor tower. Several of the boys in your dormitory are about to get caught by Professor McGonagall, and you don't want to be one of them. I trust that you've heard my conversation with Professor Snape and are aware with what's going on?"

Ron nodded with a smile, thinking back to Snape in his nightshirt.

"He was quite the sight, wasn't he? I'll advise you not to tell Professor Snape that, though, he'll think that you're out to get him next."

Ron laughed; he didn't feel quite so nervous anymore. He waved a hand good night to Dumbledore and headed for the gate.

"Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore said, grabbing Ron's attention and forcing him to turn around. "I'll be needing that book back."

Ron held the book protectively to his side.

"Don't worry. I will deliver it to Miss Granger for you. You really must hurry if you want to beat Minerva, she'll be up there any moment now." instructed Dumbledore sternly, tapping the face of an odd looking watch on his wrist.

Ron reluctantly handed the book over and with a wave from Dumbledore's hand hurried out of the library and ran towards Gryffindor Tower's steps.

**Thanks for reading and a special thank you to Gracefullee for getting me started in fan fiction, for proof-reading, and encouraging. I appreciate it. If you enjoyed my fic please go check some of her stories out. And please review! Reviews make the whole writing process worth while. The next chapter should be up within a week's time. Thanks again.**


	3. Chapter 3

**IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: **In this chapter it is important for readers to remember that this is taking place in book 5, after the incident at the ministry of magic. It is also important to keep in mind Lily's sacrifice for Harry. Throughout the books, and especially in the 6th book, JKR takes a special interest in comparing Hermione and Lily. This is not only important in the Harry Potter books in general, but also, in my fic. Please, read review and enjoy! Also, I know that this story contains a spell, but it is not real. Please do not attempt to perform this spell or injure yourself in anyway. Again, don't be a witch, and don't join Wicca. God is cool.

**I don't own Harry Potter!**

CHAPTER 3:

Dumbledore stood in the darkness of the library peering at his wrist watch until he was sure that Ron had made it safely into his dormitory. Professor McGonagall entered Gryffindor tower just moments later. Dumbledore breathed a sigh of relief, it would be best if Ron wasn't caught, if he didn't have to explain his disappearance at all. Dumbledore wished that Ron would just forget the night completely, even though he knew it was unlikely to happen. Several years from now, Ron would remember tonight and understand what had happened and what he had almost done. Dumbledore shook the idea from his head and returned to the present. The room was still dark and the castle was silent except for the muffled noise of young students tramping up towards their rooms in Gryffindor tower.

Dumbledore gripped the book firmly in both hands, and walked slowly from the library, parting the remnants of his dust cloud as he left. The shadows played tricks on the walls and danced about in the retreating moonlight. Some of the portraits on the walls looked warily down at their headmaster and leered at him through gold colored frames. A blond witch with a large frill around her neck looked down her nose at Dumbledore with disgust as he shuffle down the corridor.

"Good evening Ursula." Dumbledore managed without heart.

The witch turned her shoulder, flipped back her golden locks in anger and tutted through her teeth.

Dumbledore just walked faster, he had no time to deal with angry portraits and their placement order on the far north wall. Since the house-elves redecorated this Christmas none of the paintings seemed to be pleased.

Dumbledore continued on his stroll, trying to avoid eye contact with the other paintings. Most were nestled into their portraits and snoozing quietly while others glared at him or whispered through their teeth. Some even left their portraits upon his arrival, leaving empty canvases to stare back at him. A final portrait awaited him just outside of Nurse Pomfrey's corridor; one that Dumbledore desperately wished was still asleep.

"Ah, professor Dumbledore." screeched the old wizard from the final portrait.

Dumbledore was still far at the other end of the hall, how Salazar had managed to spot him out from such a great distance was beyond him.

"Ursula just informed me that you were headed in my direction. What an unexpected pleasure." the old, dark, wizard hissed sarcastically in his frame.

"Here for an early morning chat?" he taunted.

"You know why I'm here Professor Slytherin." Dumbledore bit his lip tightly as he bowed to the school's founder.

"Oh…" he replied lazily, slumping back into the claw foot chair in his picture. "The mudblood girl." Salazar yawned. "It's a shame about her."

"Hermione Granger has woken up now; she'll be fine." Dumbledore grumbled in her defense.

Slytherin's eyes flashed and a crooked smile spread over his pallid face. "I know." His words were deafening, the air seemed stiff around where Dumbledore stood. Salazar paused for a moment, letting the smile overcome his features and play in his cat-eyes. "She's been having dreams lately; something seems to be bothering her. Do you know what it is Dumbledore?" A stray piece of greasy dark hair fell from behind Salazar's ear. It drifted down towards his face and hung in the air before his right eye and against his pencil thin nose. He didn't bother to catch it or put it back into place. He sat fixedly, boring into Dumbledore with his free eye. Slytherin didn't move. Even as Dumbledore left him and walked into the doorway of Nurse Pomfrey's ward he didn't move, didn't even blink. Dumbledore looked back from his place in the room's entrance and closed the door tightly behind him.

Dumbledore shook the feeling of Salazar Slytherin's stare away from him. He felt fortunate that he had never met the wizard in real life. The presence that he carried, even in his portrait, was heavy. The only other wizard that he had ever met with such a sinister nature was Tom Riddle. Dumbledore cleared the thoughts from last week and from future worries of Voldemort away. The night had been long and tedious. Dumbledore couldn't help but think that he who must not be named was laughing at his position right then. All of the things that Dumbledore had tried to ignore for the last five years were tumbling down upon him. There was no way that he could protect Harry anymore, but he knew that someone else could.

Dumbledore was in a place of complete desperation, a position he did not often find himself in. He would do anything for Harry, but his conscience weighed heavily with the sight of Hermione in front of him. She was kicking at the covers violently in front of him, clutching both hands tightly to her forehead in what seemed like extreme pain; she gasped out a wheezing breath and let out a tiny scream. Laughter from across the hallway floated into the room. She kicked harder in her bed, mumbling something under her breath. A trembling hand pried itself away from her forehead and reached to the table beside her bed. It fumbled aimlessly past various gifs, books, quills and parchment, and finally reached what it had been looking for. She grasped the wand firmly in her hand and raised herself slowly out of her bed. Hermione screamed louder; her eyes were pressed tightly as tears fell down her face.

Dumbledore moved quickly to her side, he had to wake her up immediately. "Hermione!" He whispered. The sleeping figure did not respond, simply raised her wand higher, readying herself for the spell. Dumbledore's mind raced. He felt the weight of the book in his hand; it felt as if it were pressing down upon him. Dumbledore could feel the pit of his stomach rise, and heard the cackling laughter from across the hall ring in his ears. He couldn't handle it any longer. The book dropped from his hands and landed with a heavy thud onto Hermione's bed.

Her wand dropped instantly, and her body fell back onto her bed. The shock had torn her from her nightmare.

"Hermione?" Dumbledore whispered again through gritted teeth. A part of him desperately hoped that she wouldn't wake up. But her eyes fluttered open and scanned the room restlessly. When they landed upon her headmaster she opened up her mouth to say something but couldn't find the words. Despite the odd situation she did not seem shocked in any way, only shaken from her dream moments before.

Dumbledore took the next moment to raise the heavy book from the corner of her bed, wipe the dust from its cover and hand it gently over to its new owner with a grimace.

"It's yours, if you want it Hermione, but only if you want it."

Hermione nodded to her headmaster quickly, accepting the gift before he had a chance to change his mind. She turned the book to its side quickly and ran her fingers past the binding as she read the title and author. She closed her eyes; a peace washed over her features and left her body limp. A grim smile came over her face.

"Thank you professor Dumbledore." she said, voice trembling. Hermione swallowed her fear and set her face firmly. "How'd you…" She paused a moment to look back down at the book. Hermione sighed. "How did you know?" She finished.

Dumbledore managed a smile in return; a tear glided down his face and fell into his beard. "You are so much like her." was all that Dumbledore would say.

Hermione cocked her head towards Dumbledore's somber face. "Like whom?" she asked.

"Lily." Dumbledore paused, breathed in deeply and continued. "She was so smart, determined; she knew what she wanted. Lily would have done anything for Harry."

Hermione nodded solemnly and waited for her headmaster to continue.

"There was nothing that she wouldn't have done to help him. I knew that you were the same."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you." She said kindly as she allowed her head to rest back onto her pillow, easing herself into the conversation.

Dumbledore looked down at her affectionately. "I know you want to do this, but are you sure? There other people that care about you, other things to be considered."

Hermione cut him off before he could finish. The thoughts of her friends and family tinged the edge of her brain as she spoke. "If something were to happen to Harry there would be nothing else to consider. Nothing else is as important." Hermione's face was stern; she turned her view towards the wall, determined not to change her mind.

"I only wish that I could do this for you. Harry wouldn't like it if you were the one to…"

"And he wouldn't like it if you were to either." Hermione huffed, her face getting warm.

"I'm afraid." Dumbledore paused. "That's not possible."

Hermione gaped, open mouthed and staring at her headmaster's sad face. Hermione choked on her words. "But professor, there isn't a spell that you can't do."

Dumbledore laughed. "I appreciate the vote of confidence." Dumbledore's soft features faded back into a more serious look. "But we both know why I can't do this Hermione."

"It's true then?" Hermione questioned, wide eyed in amazement. "Then Sir…" she paused, uncertain of herself. Hermione's face was screwed up in confusion and her voice wavered off into silence. She could feel the deep blue of Dumbledore's eyes peering down at her, waiting patiently for her question. "Then Sir…" she started again. "Why did you need the book?"

Dumbledore's eyes did not leave her face. As he spoke he kept smiling down towards her. The admiration that he had for her could only be matched to Harry. Both were so young, but brave. They were willing to do what was needed; something that Dumbledore was unable to do despite his age and wisdom. "I couldn't have people just checking it out. I'd prefer to let fate run its course. Besides, can you imagine what would happen if everyone knew about this book and the spells that are in it? People everywhere would be dropping like flies. Imagine if more than one person performed the spell upon someone. The results would be disastrous."

"It's very lucky that I have one of the few copies. Since the fall of Voldemort I've had to be especially wary. My friend died trying to protect the secrets in her book. I've been careful to keep a good eye on my copy, as well as the other remaining ones. If anyone were to try to check it out of the school library, for instance, I would know about it."

"I guess I'm not very sneaky." Hermione blushed.

Dumbledore waved his great hand and pushed the comment away. "It's not in your nature." he complimented and returned to his explanation. "Thus far, there have only been two people to go looking for my copy of the book. Care to guess who the other person was?"

Hermione's mind raced; she was beginning to understand. "Lily?"

"That's right." Dumbledore answered brightly; he was pleased to see that Hermione was following along so quickly. "She was interested in writing a report about what she called 'Muggle Magic.' She was a first generation witch, like yourself. Lily was still very connected to the Muggle World and wanted to know how it and the Magical World are connected. I, of course, let her borrow the book for her report."

"Ermm…Sir?" began Hermione, gaining courage. "What is 'Muggle Magic?'?"

Dumbledore almost laughed, memories of a young Lily Evans reeled through his head. Her questions had been so similar, her countenance was amazingly identical. Hermione had the same vigor in her studies, such a zest for learning. "It was just a name that Lily used to describe it. It's the most primitive and ancient of all magic; it's what everything you learn about in this school is based upon. What you are looking for in this book is not a complicated spell or potion. Anyone could do it, whether magical or muggle."

"Anyone, Professor?" Her eyebrows rose.

"In this case, anyone female." Dumbledore reached for a chair beside the wall and allowed himself to sink into it. His eyes sagged slightly and his head tipped to one side. A tired sort of apathy came across his face and had already become audible in his voice. For such a serious conversation, it had become very lax.

"So…" Hermione stumbled. "How will I do it then? How can I do what Lily did?" Hermione's eyes fell towards the floor. She suddenly felt very aware of the quiet filling the room.

The question startled her headmaster. He lifted himself up and straightened his back in his chair before answering. His mouth opened, searching for a word. "It will take a symbol." Dumbledore paused, his face looked worn; giving up, he returned to his slumped over position in his chair. He sighed and started over again. "A symbol, that you are willing to give your life for his when the time comes, whenever that will be. Once you have performed or acted out your symbol, your life will be put in protection of Harry's. The symbol can be anything. For Lily, it was standing in front of Voldemort and taking his curse. The decision, however, does not have to be last minute like it was for her. You could perform the spell at any time that you are with Harry." Dumbledore bent further towards his seat. He felt as if he was handing Hermione over to her suicide, an issue that he still felt guilty about with Lily.

He had given Lily the book several years ago that had lead to her death. Without a knowledge of what she had called 'Muggle Magic' she never would have died that night. In Lily's sacrifice the ancient magic had been released, protecting Harry and killing herself. Dumbledore couldn't help but think he was sacrificing another life to save Harry's. Hermione would perform the spell, without a question in his mind. She would give her life for Harry's. Whenever it was that Harry was going to die, whether by the hands of Voldemort, or some night peacefully in his sleep at a ripe old age; Hermione would take his place. The same magic that had protected Harry at a young age would surround him in his adult years, like a mother's love. Dumbledore allowed another tear to fall down his cheek.

"And that will save Harry?"

Dumbledore nodded in return. His stomach rolled. "Through the first attack, at least." His voice trailed off.

Hermione winced in response.

"It was love that saved Harry that night. That's all it was." Dumbledore spoke with resolve in his voice. He hated the situation, but it was going to happen and he supported Hermione's choice. "That's why I cannot do it. It takes a woman's love." Dumbledore chuckled lightly "That's something, that I'm afraid, I can't offer."

Hermione's face drained of color.

Dumbledore peered down at a green hued Hermione and smiled inwardly. "Hermione, you've been as good as any mother to him and an even better friend. I know about what happened at the Ministry of Magic."

Hermione looked up questioningly up at him, opened her mouth to say something but was stopped before she could begin.

"You knew it was a trap; you tried to keep Harry from going. You tried to take care of him. But even when you knew that Harry was wrong you followed him and trusted his judgment. You walked into a dangerous situation, completely aware that you might not walk back out. That is true bravery, if I might say so." Dumbledore paused, gathering his thoughts. "I have never once questioned your love for Harry, but I would never assume that your feelings for Harry go beyond the deepest of friendships. I know that there are other people that you care about, and that care about you."

Hermione blushed a deeper shade of crimson than before.

"I'm not certain if I've ever seen someone more determined than Mr. Weasley was tonight. If it weren't for Peeves, I would have never known he was there. When I finally approached him in the library he almost refused to return my book to me. I had to promise him that I would personally deliver it to you. He's quite a stubborn young man."

Hermione smiled.

Dumbledore allowed her to enjoy the thought for a moment before delving back into the conversation. "It would have been terrible if he would have found you like that; I believe he was under the impression that you were awake. I'm very glad that I came instead."

Hermione's smile faded.

"Harry's been having the same dreams lately. I'm surprised that you are already sharing such similarities." Dumbledore ended his statement and sat quietly, waiting for an explanation to come to him, as if it were going come tapping at Miss Pomfrey's window.

"What do you mean Professor?" Hermione's lips were pursed and her forehead was wrinkled. Her mind buzzed with so much new information. Hermione's face was beginning to show signs of utter exhaustion; she was obviously confused and very tired.

Dumbledore would have to hurry. He was losing steam and it looked as if Hermione might collapse.

"If you decide to do this…"

Hermione gave her headmaster a stern look; she had already decided.

Dumbledore corrected himself. "When you do this, it is not uncommon for the two involved to develop certain similar characteristics. Once you perform the spell the two of your lives will be bonded. Sharing a life causes different parts of your lives to be similar. You'll be connected, in a way. It's only natural that your appearances would share that connection."

"Like the scar?"

"Yes," Dumbledore relented. "Like the scar. Harry's was an odd case; instead of sharing a bond with the one that saved him, his mother, he shared it with his attacker. I've spent some time mulling over it and it just doesn't make sense. Most people share a commonality with the one that performs the spell."

"Might, I get a scar like Harry's?" Hermione interrupted. She bit her lip in disgust.

"You might, but that is the least of you worries. Are you sure…?" but Dumbledore stopped himself before he could finish; he already knew Hermione's answer.

The two sat in the quiet for a few moments letting everything sink in. Hermione's mind teetered on the edge of consciousness for several minutes, but she refused to break herself away from the conversation.

"So, that's why I've been having the dreams?"

"I believe so, yes."

"My dreams are telling me that I need to save Harry, to use the 'Muggle Magic,' to take his place if something were to happen to him. I'm supposed to do this, then." Hermione sighed deeply. The entirety of her decision weighed down upon her.

Dumbledore squinted down at her in disapproval. "As I've already told Harry, everything you do is a choice. Harry has decided to face Lord Voldemort and you've decided to put your life into his hands." Dumbledore's eyes grew dewy. "…And to sacrifice it if necessary."

The pair suddenly became aware of the silence in the room. A small amount of light was brightening up the corners of the large gothic window. It was nearly dawn. Hermione broke the quiet.

"A symbol, then?" Hermione asked with finality in her voice.

"Yes. The symbol can be anything as long as it means something to you. It can be as simple as writing a letter to Harry, having a conversation with him or shaking his hand. It's a promise to yourself, one that you can't break once it's made." Dumbledore answered, raising himself up from the chair, and pushing it back up against the wall. He gave a half-hearted smile. "I'll leave you to your reading, then?"

Hermione nodded. Despite her fatigue, she would not be able to sleep tonight. She was too afraid of returning to her dreams. "I'll talk to you soon Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes." he said opening the door and walking into Slytherin's cackling laughter that filled the hallway. "I would imagine that we will be seeing a lot of each other from now on." The door closed behind him and in the same motion Hermione opened the moth eaten cover of her book.

**I know that this chapter can be a bit confusing. For those of you that are still a little lost; Hermione is going to sacrafice herself for Harry like Lily did. The next and last chapter should be up by Wed. It will be considerably shorter than the last three. Thanks for reading and a special thanks to RG and Helen. I appreciate your faithfulness in following my story. Anther special thank you to Gracefullee. Please, please, please review. REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is my last chapter. I wanted to spend more time on it but I'm leaving for college in a few hours. I have to go be an adult for a while. Sorry, guys. But I am thinking about writing a Ron/Herm fic called "The Simplicity of Slugs and Slides," sometime around Christmas.**

**You know the drill. My story takes place in the 5th book, after the battle at the ministry. I don't own Harry Potter. And don't become a witch after reading this. But most of all, please read and review. Thank you to those of you that have been loyal in reviewing, helenjames and rgluv and thank you Lee. **

CHAPTER 4:

Hermione's neck was sore. She reached a hand up to massage the back of it gingerly. Everything was sore; her body was stooped over and her head was leaning against something hard. Her body tried to heave itself out of the contorted position but soon relented when Hermione realized how tired she actually was. She must have fallen asleep reading, which would mean that she couldn't have gotten more than a couple hours of sleep and would explain her discomfort.

The sunshine rudely greeted her on the other side of her eyelids. She felt no need to return the gesture and continued to ignore it, her eyes tightly shut. Hermione groaned quietly. Tired or not, she was going to have to move. A pain shot up her back, as she tried to pull herself up from her bed; Hermione fell back down in aggravation.

A quiet chuckle from the other side of the room reached her ears and put a grin on her face. The familiar uneven pad of Ron's feet slowly crossed the marble floor and his weight fell lightly on the corner of her bed.

"Good morning Ron." Hermione said groggily, eyes still unwilling to open.

"Hullo."

Hermione could hear the smile in his voice. His weight shifted in the bed as his gentle hands helped ease her head off the book and lifted her body from the uncomfortable position. His hand removed itself carefully from behind her neck, easing her head onto the pillow, glided down her hair and finally, finding its way into her hand. She smiled in return, grasping it tightly.

It was so good to be there with Ron. After all of the trouble the week before and all of the worries that she had ahead of her, Hermione was glad to enjoy something so simple and beautiful as being there with someone that cared for her. Hermione's thoughts from the night before, the book, Harry, Voldemort, all slipped away. She could feel his firm grip on her hand and his bright eyes staring down at her. It felt good to know that someone was looking out for her. The room began to slip from her mind, the light dimmed and Hermione could feel herself falling back into sleep.

It wasn't until she felt Ron's hand slip from hers and sweep away a strand of hair, did she begin to wake up and come to the realization of what was happening. His weight shifted on the bed again, his hand lifted from the spot on her forehead, and was replaced with his lips. They flitted softly over her skin and then broke away. Reality hit her hard. Hermione had known the costs of her choice, but it had never seemed as painfully blunt as it did now, or as painfully obvious what she needed to do.

Hermione tried to manage a smile but couldn't. As she opened her eyes a tear dripped down her face. The vision of Ron before her was blurry but she could still see the grin fall from his face; he knew something was wrong.

"I-I'm sorry." He stumbled; his voice had grown raspy and his eyes were downcast. "I shouldn't have…"

Hermione cut him off. "No, I'm sorry." She said calmly, wiping the tear from her cheek. "Just so much has happened lately, it's a bit hard to handle all at once." Hermione blinked back tears. She paused for a moment, trying to gather her words. "Ron" She said quietly, gaining his attention. "There's something I need to do. Will help you help me?"

Ron looked at her quizzically. "What is it..?" His voice was still hoarse.

"Please don't ask." Hermione pleaded with her eyes. "Just help me get up." She began lifting herself from the hospital bed; her joints shook as she brought herself up.

"You're not supposed to…" Ron started to argue but quickly checked himself. Hermione was half way up from her bed, either he was going to help her or she was going to fall.

Ron helped lift her from the mattress and eased her away, gently from the bed. Her legs wobbled, and her bare feet felt ice cold on the marble floor. Ron began to help her move forward, but she stopped him.

"Just a second." She breathed.

Hermione's eyes scanned the room. The blurry picture before her was hard to make out. There were still tears in her eyes and her view was skewed from wincing in pain. But there was Harry, right where she thought he would be. He was fast asleep, sitting slumped over in the same chair that Dumbledore had resided in the night before. His whole body leaned over to one side, his arms dangled towards the floor, and his matted dark hair fell over his eyes as he snoozed peacefully.

"When did he fall asleep?" She asked in a hushed voice, hoping not to wake him.

"Almost since we got here, an hour or so ago." Ron's face screwed up in confusion and what seemed to be worry. His eyebrows furrowed and he cast a cautious glance down toward her. Hermione nodded and his grip tightened around her waist as they moved forward in unison.

"He hasn't been sleeping well." Ron whispered as they creped towards Harry's seat.

Hermione let out a wheezing breath. "I know." She looked up towards him, their eyes locked. His judgmental glance bore into her and his eyes prodded for an answer. "Please don't ask Ron."

He nodded again, unwillingly, and let the subject go.

"I can take it from here Ron, really. I'm okay." Hermione's voice wavered. She could see the disappointment in his face. He shrugged his shoulders slightly and released his grip.

It took Hermione a moment to find her footing, but walking by herself was much easier than she would have thought. Her muscles slowly eased up, and the tension in her back and neck released from her body. With each step it became less painful, until she had reached Harry's chair. She started to bend down slowly. She wanted to be eye-level with Harry, but before she could, Ron was at her side. He had rushed across to help her down, which had been more of a chore than she anticipated. Her back cracked slightly as she leaned down, Ron's hands were around her waist again, there to catch her if she hurt herself. Hermione smiled slightly, despite the discomfort. There was no getting rid of Ron, they were in this together.

Hermione turned her head to look at him, behind her. The same strong face was behind her that was there just yesterday. Ron was just like that. He didn't know what was going on half of the time, but he was still loyal. He looked back at her, his blue eyes boring into her brown. He wasn't leaving and there wasn't anything she could do about it. It was that same look, that same knowing look he had always given her when Hermione was being unreasonable. He shook his head in disapproval, his eyebrows raised, his features were laughing tauntingly down at her, but she knew that he wasn't leaving.

Hermione tore her eyes away from his, and returned her gaze towards Harry. She looked at his tired face, and withered body. Every part of him seemed drained from the last week and his reoccurring nightmares. Harry's face looked pale, his red scar stood out like a jolt amongst his peaked features. It etched across his forehead and stopped right above his eyes, the only attribute that he shared with his mother. Hermione couldn't help but think of all the things that she had done for him. There was no one who could replace Harry's mother; no one ever had. He had never received such affection from his Aunt or Uncle. He had not been comforted as a child, or cradled as a toddler. No one had been there to kiss his scrapes.

Hermione stared up at Harry's biggest scrape with trepidation; she knew that no one had touched his scar since his mother's death. Dumbledore, despite his knowledge of Voldermort's curse and his fondness for Harry, had never bothered to meddle with his scar. His aunt and uncle had been repulsed at the sight of it. And Mrs. Weasley always treated Harry like her own son, with one exception. She always greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but never the forehead.

It was widely accepted that Harry's scar was an unmentionable part of his body. No one was supposed to talk about it, let alone touch it. From Harry's very beginning in the magical world it had become a great source of embarrassment to him and something that secluded him from average wizard society. The scar was a bad reminder of Harry's past and of Voldemort. Most of the people that surrounded Harry had learned to ignore it, but most of all they knew, never to get near it. Despite all of the people that loved and cared for Harry, not one had dared the chance of accepting that part of him. The truth was that although they trusted Harry, they could not trust the one that gave him that scar or Harry's connection to him.

Hermione timidly reached her hand up to his forehead. His skin was clammy and cold. She inched her fingers towards the scar and then brushed her hand over it carefully. She could feel Ron's hands tightly holding her shoulder, and remembered his own scars. They all had walked away from their experiences with Voldemort with one kind of mark or another.

If Hermione was supposed to pick something that was personal to her and Harry, this would have to be it. Hermione lifted her hand from Harry's scar, delicately, careful not to wake him and pushed back strands of his hair. Leaning forward, she kissed his scar gently and pulled away, waiting for the spell to take effect. Hermione sat there, on the floor for a moment, just waiting. She felt nothing, nothing had changed. Harry was still sleepy peacefully. Hermione wondered if the spell had worked, whether she had chosen the wrong symbol or whether something had gone wrong.

In aggravation Hermione pushed herself up from the ground with a huff and attempted to stand on her tired legs, unsuccessfully. She wobbled back and forth dangerously, nearly falling over. Ron followed Hermione's suit, and he lifted himself up from the floor. With Ron's arms still loosely placed around her waist, he was able to hold Hermione in place and keep her from falling. The gesture would have been warmly welcomed if not for recent events, and the fact that Hermione felt awful for the way she was treating Ron. Why couldn't he just leave her alone when she was being such a git? "Stubborn prat." She thought to herself. He was still there; Ron just would not leave. Hermione could feel his breath on the back of her neck, and his head peering over her shoulder. She shrugged him away, not wanting to talk but Ron made the decision for her.

Ron wheeled around, staring her straight in the face. His eyes scanned critically over her. He seemed determined to find what was wrong, when his mouth suddenly slipped open and his eyes bugged. "Hermione!" he yelled in shock.

"I'm sorry Ron! I really am; you have to believe me. I'm just worried about Harry and…" Hermione rambled on, trying to explain, though, she wasn't sure she could. How could she tell Ron that she had him doing all of these things recently, just so she could die? Hermione didn't imagine that that would go over well. All she could do was continue on, mindlessly. Her stomach jumped, her mouth grew dry, picking up speed with each word. "I'm sorry! You can't understand!" She continued in what seemed to be an endless apology. "I shouldn't have made you do all this." And, "I don't know what's going on anymore. I know this must be confusing."

Ron had just about had enough. "You're right." He said, covering Hermione's mouth with his palm. "This is confusing, but that's not what I'm worried about." Ron withdrew his hand.

Hermione stood peering up at him with dumbfounded look on her face. Surely, he must have been angry.

Ron answered her question as if she had asked it out loud. "Hermione, I don't need to know what's going on. I trust you." He paused for a moment to smile down at her. "But, what I am confused about are your eyes. Are you okay?"

"My eyes?" Hermione questioned.

Ron nodded, pointing over to a mirror on the wall. Hermione turned to it and gasped. Her reflection stared back at her, perfectly normal, but with one exception. Where she had once had dark brown eyes, there were now brilliant green ones. Hermione brought her hands up to her face, feeling around her eyebrows, and pushing at the bags underneath her eyes, expecting her old eye color to reappear. How could this be possible? The answer hit her like a truck; the spell had worked. An odd mixture of relief and disgust washed over her.

From across the room she could hear Harry yawning in his chair. He was waking up. Harry pulled his arms into the air. His hands were balled into fists and he let them go as he yawned again. His eyes pried open, crossed the room, and went directly to Hermione. Neither of them had to ask any questions, they both knew instantaneously. The pair of green eyes just stared there at each other in the silence, soaking in the knowledge of their knew lives.

**I hope you enjoyed the fic. And I'm sorry that I can't tell you what's going to happen. I'd hate to finish my story and it not go along with J.K.'s future book. Please read and review; it makes the process worth while.**


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